Chapter Twenty-One
Every afternoon since the messenger had come from London, Swein stood at the edge of the village, waiting. He looked foolish, but he could not help himself. His daughter was coming home. He needed to see her first before anybody else.
Swein looked into the distance. A cloud of dust rose into the air. Blinking, he looked a second time to make sure he had actually seen it instead of his mind playing tricks on him. The cloud did not disappear under closer inspection.
With each minute that passed, the cloud came ever closer. Once shapes could be discerned within, Swein recognized Ariel in the forefront of the group. His heart skipped a beat.
Her hair had grown long during her time away. Swein swallowed convulsively. Ariel looked so much like her mother it hurt to look at her. The older she became the more she resembled her dead mother. Waving at the riders, Swein caught her daughter’s attention. She detached herself from the rest of the group and cantered to where he stood. In a cloud of dust, she eased herself from her steed’s back and then threw herself into his arms.
Maybe it was from the familiar sensation of her father holding her, or the tiring days of travel, but Ariel burst into tears. It was some minutes before her tears stopped. “I am sorry, Father. I do not know what came over me.”
Swein placed his hand on his daughter’s expanding waist. He felt the unmistakable feel of the child kicking. “Much of it probably comes from this little one. Your mother used to burst into tears at the slightest incidences when she was carrying you.” The child gave another hearty kick, making him smile. “I presume the child is Broc’s?”
“Aye.”
Looking over the group of travelers who waited on the road, Swein noticed Broc was absent. Ariel shook her head. He motioned for Ranulf to take the others to the hall. Swein linked her arm through his and led her to the meadow.
Swein picked one of the colorful flowers that grew in abundance, sketched a bow, and offered it to Ariel. “A flower for my lady.”
Laughing, Ariel accepted the bloom. She closed her eyes and breathed in its scent. “William calls me Lady Knight.”
Swein smiled. “It suits you. How else is one supposed to address you respectfully? We cannot go around calling you Sir Ariel, now can we?”
“Nay, but you can call me Ariel St. Ceneri.”
Swein bent and picked up a stone. Before he answered, he threw it across the meadow. “So he married you before he abandoned you. That is what he did, right?”
“I guess you could put it that way. William did not give him much choice in the matter, though.”
A silence stretched between them before Swein spoke again. “What happened?”
“Theodoric sold me to a Norman. Geoffrey is young, and his wife, who he had not met, had yet to come to England. To make a long story short, Broc believes the child is not his.”
Swein snorted. “I thought the lad was a lot smarter than that. Theodoric made you a serf. You lost all your rights from that point on until you were released. If you disobeyed this Geoffrey in any way, he could have killed you if he wished.”
Ariel started to walk. Swein followed beside her. “Be that as it may, Broc has no intention of forgiving me. He might be my husband, but he will never fill that role in my life.”
“I had the hall rebuilt while you were gone. You can live there with me. With the new baby coming, I will gladly have another chamber added.”
After kissing her father on the cheek, Ariel said, “I love you, Father. What would I do without you?”
* * * *
That evening the villagers had a celebration in honor of Ariel’s return. Tables were set up in the yard, and everybody contributed food. When put together there was more than enough for all present. The fare was simple but tasty.
There were kegs of ale and mead to help wash down the food. Swein, feeling generous, retrieved a keg of French wine Broc had stored in the main hall. He reasoned if Broc did not deign to put in appearance, then his good wine could be appreciated in his place.
It did not take long for everyone to hear the tale of her abduction. All Ariel had to do was tell the story to a couple of villagers and it spread like fire throughout the entire gathering. All agreed, she being married to Broc was exactly what Elmstead needed.
It kept the thane on the land while making the Norman knight one of them. Not that anyone had much to complain about Broc. It was only before the marriage he was still considered an outsider. Ariel did not have the heart to tell them he was not thrilled with any of it.
Partway through the meal Colwyn fell asleep in Ariel’s arms. She was surprised he had lasted as long as he had. The days of travel had worn him out.
Lily left her place at the table and went to Ariel. “Here, give him to me. I will put the young master to bed.”
Ariel shook her head. “Nay, you stay and enjoy the festivities.”
Not paying her any heed, Lily lifted Colwyn into her arms. “I will hear none of that. The villagers arranged this for you. It would not do for the guest of honor to leave so early. I do not mind staying with Colwyn.”
“Do not worry. Lily will not be alone.” Ranulf had come to them while they had talked. Lily blushed. Ariel nodded. There was no point in arguing.
Lily and Ranulf closely walked together, and Ariel shook her head. If she was correct in her thinking, her two friends would find companionship in each other, which pleased her immensely.
Ariel turned back around and found the villagers’ attention fixed on something near the yard. She craned her neck and strained to see what had caused everyone to grow so quiet. It would have to be something intriguing to put a stop to all the drink they had been consuming. Catching a glimpse of what held such fascination, she quickly looked away. The object of all the attention was Broc. Without bothering to dismount, he walked his horse to where she sat. From his superior height, he looked down at her. She glared back at him.
Swein went to confront Broc. “It is good to see you again. You have been missed. Let me take this opportunity to welcome you into the family.”
Broc smirked. “I am happy to be back at Elmstead. As to my marriage to your daughter, you should thank William. It was his decision to have me wed Ariel, not mine.”
A gasp rippled through the villagers. Their loyalty to Broc was tenuous at best. His rejection of Ariel would not endear him to them. They would take her side before they ever took his.
“What is done is done. You are married to my daughter. Can you not try to make the best of it?”
“I am afraid that is beyond my capabilities.”
Swein gave up any pretenses of civility and glared at Broc. “I know what has caused this change in your feelings for Ariel. My daughter has suffered enough these last few months. She should not be punished for something she had no control over. Since you cannot abide being around her, she will move into my hall.”
Broc shook his head. “I will not allow it. Ariel is now my property through marriage bonds. I will treat her however I deem fit. I can treat her like a serf and none could say me nay.”
While he had spoken, Broc had not noticed the hostility that had come over the men of the village. They were the ones who had followed Ariel to fight with the fryd. Being a Norman was just another notch against Broc. His last statement caused them to move against him.
“I am afraid, my lord, that will not be allowed. You are one against many. I would rethink your position before you make any move toward my daughter.”
The village men surrounded Broc’s horse. The blacksmith, who was the largest man of the village, watched Broc intently. The situation was getting out of hand. With no other alternative available, Broc backed down.
“I concede to your superior numbers. Ariel may live where she wishes. I will not interfere.” After backing up his horse, Broc left.
* * * *
Two weeks went by after the celebration of Ariel’s return and nothing had changed. She lived with Colwyn and her father in the newly-built hall. Meanwhile, Broc shared the main hall with Ranulf, much to his displeasure. Ranulf was not a very good live-in companion. He ignored Broc whenever they met, and spent most of the day at the other hall.
From the start, Broc had been disgusted by Ranulf’s presence at Elmstead. He figured Ranulf went to Ariel’s hall just to be close to her. When Lily could be seen more and more at Ranulf’s side, he realized the other knight’s attentions were focused on the girl and not his wife. He watched them with envy. That was how his relationship with Ariel should have started. He had done everything wrong.
After William had told him Ariel had gone home to Elmstead, Broc had decided to follow. He had left London the very next day. On the road, he had had time to go over the events that had led to his and her separation. Before reaching Elmstead, he had promised himself to be more objective with her. Her story did have a ring of truth to it, but he still could not bring himself to forgive her. The thought of her in another man’s bed hurt him deeply. Picturing her taking another into her body, the place where he had been the only one to have gone before, made his blood boil. She was his, and no one had the right to take from her what was for him alone.
Sighing, Broc looked at the letter that lay before him on his desk. He had come to his chamber to read it in privacy. It was from his mother. She and his father were coming to Elmstead.
While in London seeking an annulment, Broc had dispatched a letter to Normandy. In it he had briefly described his life in England and his good fortune in acquiring Elmstead. He had also mentioned his impending nuptials to Ariel. His parents were coming to see their second son’s new wife. They would arrive any day.
After putting the letter away, Broc decided to see his son. At least Ariel had not stopped him from being with Colwyn. He had asked why she allowed it, and she had only said that Colwyn should not be deprived of his father just because his parents did not get along. Broc was grateful for that one small concession.
Thinking of his son brought a smile to his lips. Now that Colwyn had mastered walking, he had started to run. He would take off in a burst of speed only to lose his balance and fall flat on his face, but that did not stop him. Broc only had to put him back onto his little feet and Colwyn would be off again.
His son was another thing Broc would have to explain to his parents. In his letter he had made no mention of Colwyn. He had felt it would have been better to inform his parents after his marriage to Ariel.
Broc reached the smaller hall and peered inside. No one seemed to be around. There was only one other place they could be—the practice field.
Every day Ariel could be found at the field, crossing swords with Ranulf. She had flatly refused to stop when Broc had told her to leave off such strenuous activity. She had asked him why he cared, considering he held to his belief that the child was not his. He had not known what to say to that.
More worried Ariel would do damage to herself, Broc had gone to the village healer with his concerns. She had laid his fears to rest. She had assured him the exercise would keep Ariel strong for the delivery, making her time of trial go quicker. The woman had told him Ariel had done the same when she had carried Colwyn. If he had been there then, he would have realized she was always careful.
At a short distance away, Broc watched Ariel. Her pregnancy did not hinder her movements at all. The rise and fall of her sword never faltered. Smiling to himself, he could see Ranulf give way to her.
They fought without armor. Each hit was carefully placed so as not to harm their opponent. They went through the movements strictly for exercise, and not to see who could bring the other down. The healer had been right. Ariel did not take any unnecessary chances.
Broc had no idea how long he stayed there enjoying the sight of his wife. It was not until he felt someone returning his stare did he realize Ranulf and Ariel had finished with their practice. She stood away from the others, silently staring. The urge to go to her was almost too great, but the ghost of what she had done rose between them. Unable to bear it anymore, he turned his back on her.
* * * *
Three days later, Broc’s parents arrived at Elmstead. Ariel was in the village with Colwyn at the time. Broc was working in fields with the villagers.
Ariel knew they were expected. Broc had briefly mentioned it to her the other day, but she had not realized they would arrive so soon. Seeing no way out of it, she sent one of the village boys to fetch Broc and then prepared herself to greet her parents by marriage. Adjusting Colwyn on her hip, she went to stand in the middle of the path.
Lord Eustance St. Ceneri was a large man, his height a match for his son’s. His hair, though streaked with gray, was the same tawny color that Broc and Colwyn shared. The St. Ceneri males all seemed to have gold eyes. Right at that moment, a set of those looked down at Ariel. There was no mistaking this man as Broc’s sire.
Broc’s mother, Lady Mary, was quite beautiful. Even age had not dulled her looks. At first glance, she did not appear old enough to have a child Broc’s age. Her skin was smooth with only a few laugh lines at the corners of her eyes. Her auburn hair was gathered into a single braid that hung down her back. An intelligent green-eyed gaze skipped from Ariel’s face and then to Colwyn’s. She seemed to be fixated with Colwyn.
Ariel came closer and smiled at Broc’s parents. “My lord, my lady, allow me to welcome you to Elmstead.” The couple returned her smile.
Much to Ariel’s surprise, Lady Mary dismounted and then came to stand before her. Her gaze never left Colwyn. Ariel started to feel uncomfortable. Not knowing all that much about the St. Ceneris, she was unsure what to do next. Before she could think of something to say, Broc’s mother reached out and took Colwyn from her arms.
At that point, Broc had arrived to greet his parents. “Hello, Mother.”
Without taking her gaze off Colwyn, his mother returned his greeting. “Broc. In your letter you failed to mention you had a son. If it was because you did not feel confident enough to tell us he was illegitimate, you should have known better. It does not matter.”
Broc brushed a kiss across his mother’s cheek and chuckled. “You always have a way of bringing everything out in the open, Mother.”
“Well, you should have told us. Say hello to your father, dear.”
Broc looked at his father. “Nice to see you, Father.”
Lord Eustance dismounted. After looping both sets of reins through his hand, he went to Broc. He clapped his son on the shoulder. “Your mother is quite right. This is our first grandchild. No matter he was born on the wrong side of the blanket, he is a part of our family. From the looks of him, the St. Ceneri blood runs strong through his veins.”
Completely ignored and forgotten, Ariel watched the family reunion with distaste. It was bad enough Broc’s parents saw through her. What really infuriated her was his behavior. He made no move to introduce her. If he wanted it that way, he could have it.
Ariel loudly cleared her throat. “Now that you are here, Broc, I will leave you to settle your parents in. Since our son seems content to be with your mother, you can watch Colwyn as well.” Before Broc could refuse her, Ariel walked away.
Broc called after her. “Ariel, wait. Where are you going?”
Ariel threw over shoulder, “Where else do I go when I need to work off a little anger? To Ranulf, of course.”
As she left, Broc said, “Don’t worry, Mother. That was Ariel, my wife.”
His mother replied, “Oh my. I did not even think. Why did she not say anything?”
Ariel did not wait around to hear Broc’s response.